


Cupid Painted Blind

by gottalovev



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alive Laura Hale, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blindfolds, Epistolary, First Time, M/M, Pining, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-17
Updated: 2013-04-17
Packaged: 2017-12-08 19:15:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/765023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gottalovev/pseuds/gottalovev
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles dodges being mugged in a dark alley when a stranger comes to his help. His mysterious savior – whom he didn’t even see properly! - then pulls a Batman and disappears before the police arrives. </p><p>Derek has a good reason for his secrecy, even after getting in contact with Stiles again. Will their building long distance friendship withstand the truth?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cupid Painted Blind

**Author's Note:**

> Canon divergence: AU set 10 years after the fire, where Laura is established in Beacon Hills while Derek never came back. Scott was never bitten.
> 
> ***
> 
>  **Warning** : initial setting has Stiles being chased by a gang threatening violence and could be unsettling. 
> 
> ***
> 
> This fic was made for the [harlequinbbang challenge](http://harlequinbbang.livejournal.com)
> 
> Unfortunately my artist has serious computer problems, but if art becomes available for the fic I will immediately link to it!
> 
> All my gratitude to my betas, [ldyanne](http://ldyanne.livejournal.com) and [munibunny](http://munibunny.livejournal.com), who helped me so much ♥

When Stiles picks up the pace, he hears the guys following him do the same. Well, fuck. The uneasy feeling ratchets up, turning into actual worry. Beacon Hills is a quiet town for the most part, but this area is kind of rough, and Stiles wouldn't normally be walking here by himself in the middle of the night if his Jeep hadn't let him down five blocks back. Since bad luck comes in threes, not only did it refuse to start again, but his cell phone is dead and now he's being followed by at least five guys, and probably about to get mugged.

Stiles curses internally that he decided to cut through the warehouse sector, since there are no bars or restaurants he can slip into to make a call. No chance for a cab here, either, and he can't help it as he hurries just a little more, unable to feign confidence. There is laughter behind him, mocking, and he knows he's being played with. He's prey and everyone knows it.

He hesitates a bit more, but in the end Stiles just gives in: he starts running. Maybe he can lose them or hide, it's his only chance. As soon as he's in motion, there are whoops of delight behind him as the guys take chase.

"Awww, pretty boy, don't be like that!" One shouts.

Stiles doesn't reply, saving his breath as he runs like he's never ran, aiming for Culver Street, cutting in between buildings as often as he can to, hopefully, lose his tails. He's not the only one who uses Culver as a shortcut to drive downtown; hopefully, he'll be able to get some help. Unfortunately, when he rounds the corner, almost falling down on his face as he trips on a loose cement tile, Culver is empty but for a set of taillights already three blocks down. No one else coming or going. Stiles knows it's hopeless, but he stands in the middle of the road, waving his arms.

"Help, help me please!" he shouts towards the car as loud as he can while being mostly breathless. He has a moment of hope when the car brakes, but the thugs are closing in.

"There he is!" 

Dammit, they are right there, and Stiles sees that at least one of them has a wicked looking knife. He can't wait to see if the person in the car actually heard him, or even if they'll bother coming to help, especially with the gang on his heels. Hopefully they'll at least call the police. Stiles bolts towards the other side of the street, hoping to outdistance his aggressors again. Running in a straight line in the street is too exposed, and unfortunately the guys after him are in great shape. 

It's only when Stiles is deep into the narrow drive between two warehouses and he sees that it ends with a wall that he realizes how big a mistake he made. There are no lights and the place dark as fuck. Stiles tries the door on the building next to him only to find it locked. Of course. His pursuers have found him and they know perfectly well he's trapped, too, judging by their catcalls and laughs.

"Playing hard to get?" Shouts the one who seems to be in charge, or at least who is on point as the guys fan out at the only exit. Stiles is momentarily proud to see that two of the five men are panting hard to get their breath back, and bent over with their hands on their knees. 

Stiles' heart is jackhammering in his chest as he tries the door again. 

"What can I say? I'm just that kind of girl." Right, mouthing off is his specialty, but it's maybe not the best time to do it. 

The leader laughs, amused. "Funny guy. But now that we're finished with foreplay, it's time for you to put out."

As he advances, followed by his friends, Stiles can't help but notice how big the guy is, if only by his silhouette cutting against the streetlight at the mouth of the alley. He has at least thirty pounds on Stiles, so even a one on one would be a lost cause. Plus the guy has a butterfly knife that he's currently using to scare the shit out of Stiles even more (it works).

Well that's it, Stiles thinks helplessly. That's it, that's the end. Fuck. 

***

Derek brakes when he hears the cry for help and sees a guy wind milling in the middle of the road in his rear mirror. He frowns but not two seconds later the man runs away, not even towards him. Just after that several other guys cross the street, obviously in pursuit of the first. Derek swears and turns the Camaro around, tires screeching. He has no idea what he's getting into - maybe it's a drug deal gone wrong that he should stay away from - but one guy against four or five isn't fair, no matter what. 

The alley where they all disappeared is too narrow for the car so Derek parks at the end of it. As he gets out, he hears the first guy plead.

"I don't have much, but take it." It's a young voice, cracking in fear. 

A mugging, then. Derek is glad he stopped. This won't do. The alley is dark but Derek can see it's a dead end and that the guy is trapped. The thugs are so eager to get to him that apart from looking over their shoulders when they hear the car, they don't even stop advancing on their prey. A lone guy must not worry them at all.

"Hey!" Derek shouts. He raises his phone, 9-1-1 punched in and thumb hovering over the call button. "Leave him alone or I'll call the police!"

He'd prefer not to get in the middle of things, since he really doesn't need the attention. It's the first time he's back in Beacon Hills since the fire and his plan is to lay low and stay out of sight – out of _everyone's_ sight - while he visits Laura, that's it.

"Thank god!" he hears the kid in the back breathe out in relief.

On the other hand, the little bums don't seem cowed. 

"Mind your business and get out of here!" is shouted right back.

With a sigh, Derek presses the button. Why can't people take the easy way out?

"9-1-1, how can we help you?"

"There's a mugging in progress, Culver Street, at the tire factory," Derek says, then counts the idiots. "Five men. I'd say a gang since they have ridiculous matching jackets."

"Hey!" the closest man says, his mousy face scrunched; he looks totally affronted. "Now you're gonna get it too!" he menaces, taking a knife out. 

Derek rolls his eyes at how ridiculous the situation is. The 9-1-1 operator is asking questions in his ear but Derek hangs up, throwing the phone in the car. He decides to take his leather jacket off, too, since he doesn't want it to get torn by accident.

"Oh yeah?" Derek says after he closes the door. He walks towards the gang, rolling back the sleeves of his Henley on his forearms. "Bring it."

Derek's confidence throws Mousy Face for a second, before he runs towards him with his knife (he's not even holding it right). The others laugh, sure that their friend has this. A simple side-step allows Derek to avoid the blade, then he grabs the wrist of the knife-wielding arm and twists until it breaks. Mousy Face cries out in pain and Derek shoves him hard against the brick wall where he hits his head and falls to the ground, stunned. 

"Whoa!" Derek hears in the resulting silence, breathed out by the young guy in the back. 

Derek can't help the smirk: okay, so maybe this is a little bit fun.

"One," Derek says, cracking his neck. "Who's next?" 

***

Stiles' jaw drops open when the guy goads the four remaining gang members. Is he nuts? Okay, so the way he got rid of the first one was impressive enough, but he's still alone and, as far as Stiles can see, unarmed. He holds his breath when two thugs advance on the new guy, wearier now. It's so dark, though, Stiles can't see much of anything but that they start to fight, punches and grunts clearly audible. 

The good thing right now is that he's the last thing on the minds of the guys who were about to beat him senseless just five minutes ago. He's still trapped, though; there's no way to escape in the commotion unnoticed. Stiles looks around and feels the ground for something that could help him to defend himself. He almost crows in delight when he bumps into what feels like a piece of two-by-four. Carefully, Stiles pulls it to him, keeping one eye on the gang leader who is the closest. 

"What the fuck!" Leader mutters, watching his men being decimated near the mouth of the alley. "Get him, Biz, come on!"

Once he has the piece of wood in hand, Stiles takes a deep breath and decides it's now or never: he needs the element of surprise while Leader is distracted. Unfortunately, he must make some noise or Leader spots his movement because he turns at the last second as Stiles swings his two-by-four, avoiding most of the hit. It clips Leader on the shoulder instead of behind the head as aimed.

"Son of a bitch!" Leader curses, dropping his knife (at least there's that!). He's fast, though, and clearly not injured enough because he manages to grip the piece of wood too, tugging hard as he tries to take it away from Stiles. "You're gonna regret this, boy!"

"Oh, I'm regretting it already," Stiles says, holding on for dear life. If he lets go, Leader will bash his skull in. 

Fifteen feet away, his ally has gone through the others, all by himself, and he's coming to Stiles' aid fast. 

"I told you to leave him alone," the stranger says, a low grumbling quality to his voice making the hair stand on Stiles' nape stand on end. For a second there's something weird, a flash of blue in the darkness, but Stiles is too busy losing the fight for the two-by-four to question it. Leader twists the beam and pulls violently, and as Stiles grip slips, the end clips him on the side of the head, hard. There's an explosion of pain and Stiles drops, his legs turned to jelly. 

The shock is pretty bad and he must miss a second or two because suddenly the stranger is barreling into Leader, both dropping to the ground besides Stiles. Leader makes a surprised 'oof' as they roll on the ground with the momentum, but Stranger ends up on top, socking Leader hard in the head, or so it seems. Frankly, Stiles is too busy curling into a ball, forearms protecting his poor head, to pay much attention. 

"Fucking ow!" Stiles whines, and he starts badly when there's a hand on his shoulder. He might even squeak in fear.

"Are you okay?" Stranger asks.

"Not really, no. God, that hurts," Stiles blinks and tries to rub the tears in his eyes away with the back of his hands.

"Let me see." Strong hands take hold of his skull and Stiles squints in the dark, trying to see the face of the man who saved him. Everything is hazy, though, and there's no fucking light, the only source being in the street. Stranger has a vague halo backlighting him, that's it. 

"Well, unless you have a flashlight..." Stiles says as Stranger gently prods at his temple, right where the two-by-four connected.

"It won't be pretty in the morning but you're gonna be fine."

"Thank you, Doctor," Stiles says, trying to pull away. "How can you say that? Maybe I'm concussed. Maybe I'll _die_."

There's an amused huff as Stranger lets go of his head. Too bad, Stiles rather liked how warm those hands were. 

"You don't sound concussed." Stranger turns to look towards the mouth of the alley, then back at him. "The police are coming. I've got to go."

"What?" Stiles says, panicked. He doesn't hear anything apart from someone groaning in pain a couple of yards away. "Don't leave me with them!" 

"They're out for the count, don't worry."

"But you have to stay! The police will want your statement!" Stiles urges, gripping Stranger's arm (a very nicely muscled arm at that, he'll remember later). 

"I can't, I'm sorry," Stranger says, visibly uneasy as he pries Stiles' fingers off his sleeve. "You'll be fine."

Maybe he's wanted by the police; it would explain his hurry to go.

"I'll tell them what happened, that you just stopped to help me. My dad is the Sheriff, don't worry about anything. It won't take long and it's just to say what happened, that's all," Stiles says. 

"I really, really can't stay," Stranger's getting up and Stiles can hear the sirens now, faintly. 

"Fine," Stiles concedes. "But if one of those bozos spring back up and kills me, it's going to be on you."

There's a huff of laughter again and Stiles rubs at his eyes socket, trying to keep his brain in. God, he's got a bad headache; Stranger might say he sounds okay but he'd better get his head checked, just in case. When he looks back up, Stranger is gone and the car is leaving on a screech. Shit, Stiles just lost seconds again, no concussion his ass. 

The cruiser soon parks at the exit of the alley, flashes piercing the darkness. Stiles pulls himself upright and waves over the help, thankful to see it's Deputy Sanchez, who'll immediately know he's the victim here. 

It's only when he's being hauled towards the street, to safety and surely a visit to the ER, that Stiles realizes he forgot to thank Stranger for coming to his aid. 

***

Laura had sent him pictures of the house as she fixed it up, but it's still weird to see it whole and pristine. Derek's last memory is of an inferno, the basement's door open and how he'd blacked out while being burned alive. He stayed away for ten years, but Laura has been back for five where she rebuilt the house and also made a name for herself in town. She's now running the Beacon Hills' Youth Center, and doing a great job of it. Well, that's what she says, but Derek doesn't doubt it at all. 

Laura opens the door with a huge smile as Derek cuts the ignition on the Camaro. He hurries to her, crushing her in a hug when she leaps from the porch into his arms. 

Derek laughs and has to spit out long raven hair to talk. "Jeez, sister of mine, missed me that much?"

He gets a hit behind the head for that, followed by an exaggeratedly loud kiss on the cheek. "You know I did, asshole!"

To be honest, Derek missed her just as much. He won't tell her, though (she's his sister after all). 

"I'm here now," he says, smiling down at her. 'Sorry I didn't feel ready to come sooner,' he doesn't add, but by the way Laura cups his face in her hand and her smiles softens, she gets it.

"So you are, finally. It's good to see you, Boo." Laura nuzzles his neck and instinctively Derek bares his throat, eyes closing. He doesn't expect Laura to tense and rear back.

"What the hell, Derek?" she asks, eyes flashing red. "Why do you smell like blood? Who was it? And where are you hurt?"

Oh, right. _That._

She's pawing at his shirt and Derek raises it so that she can see that he's fine. 

"I'm okay. When I got in town, I stumbled on a gang who was about to mug a kid. I stopped to help. They had knives, but it was just a graze, I'm fine."

Laura sighs loudly. "Okay. You didn't do anything stupid, right?"

And what is that supposed to mean? He's angry, pissed even that Laura could think he'd be anything but careful about leaving evidence that could make people suspect he's other than human.

"What, like claw them to death or rip their throats out? No! Who do you take me for?" 

"Sorry, sorry," Laura says immediately. "I know you wouldn't, not intentionally, but with the Argents nosing everywhere, I get paranoid."

Right. Not long after Laura came back to Beacon Hills, Uncle Peter had came out of his coma swinging. He had killed a couple of people before Laura had stopped him, unfortunately by putting him down. There had been a commotion about 'animal attacks' and the fucking Argents had rolled back in town, thankfully Kate-less. Laura has a begrudging truce set up with Chris Argent, but she's obviously on edge about anything looking suspicious.

"Fists only, broke a few bones," Derek reassures her, calming his own temper. "Left them there for the police to pick up."

"What about the kid?" Laura asks.

"Unfortunately, he got hit on the head, but I think he's okay. The cruiser was almost there when I left, and he said he was the Sheriff's son, so they surely took care of him."

Laura gapes. "Stiles?"

Derek frowns. "What's a Stiles?"

"I mean you saved Stiles? Cute, big eyes, brown hair, a bit gangly Stiles?"

"If Stiles likes to be overdramatic and can't shut up, well yes, that would describe him," Derek says with a smirk. They hadn't talked for long, but the kid had made him smile with his antics. 

"Yes! Oh, good, he's such a darling. Glad you were there to help," Laura says, with a fond smile. She hooks her arm around Derek's elbow, guiding him up the stairs toward the house. "Are you hungry?"

"I could eat," Derek says, heart suddenly pounding at the idea of entering the house. Having Laura close makes it easier, though, especially since she feels his distress and squeezes his arm reassuringly.

"Awesome, I just made blueberry muffins," she says.

"My favorite," Derek replies. 

Stepping in to see that the interior of the house is so visibly all Laura and not a trip down memory lane is a relief and Derek relaxes a bit. This should be okay.

"I know," Laura replies with bright smile and Derek could kick himself for having waited this long to come back home if it makes Laura so happy.

***

"And the second gang ran off when they heard the sirens? That's what you're saying?"

Stiles thinks his dad's eyebrows are way too disbelieving for his – admittedly - pretty shady story. He knows he should have gone with the truth, but Stiles has a strong compulsion to try to keep his mysterious savior safe. Stranger didn't want to get involved, so Stiles did a creative retelling of the evening's events. A rival gang had been his first idea because it's not like anyone would have believed he'd be able to knock down five armed thugs himself.

"Yes!" Stiles insists. "I was just lucky that I was forgotten in the crossfire and that your men arrived so fast. I should get them a gift basket. Do Sanchez and Jones like fruits? Fruits are awesome, I bet they would love that."

"I am sure they would," Dad says. "But they were doing their job, a thank you will be enough." When his cell phone rings, he raises a finger to Stiles who was about to insist, in a vain ploy to deflect from his lame story. "Hello? Yes, he's fine. Did you ID that 9-1-1 caller?"

Stiles stomach drops, as all the lies might be for nothing. But that's a good point for Stranger, right? Doing a good deed by calling the police? It doesn't really interfere with Stiles story, after all.

"Derek Hale? Really? I had no idea he was back in town," Dad says, surprised. It makes Stiles perk up, because he doesn't want Stranger to be in trouble, but he is interested in knowing who he is nonetheless. "Okay, thank you, that's all."

"Hale? Related to Laura Hale?" Stiles asks. 

He's done volunteer work at the Youth Center, and he wouldn’t say that they are friends because they don't know each other well enough, but he's always admired Laura. He might crush on her a little bit, too - she's gorgeous - but he knows he has no chance in hell and mostly admires her from afar.

"Her brother, yes." Dad seems sad, weirdly, and lost in thought to boot.

"What's wrong with Derek?" Stiles asks.

"Ten years ago, I was one of the first deputies on the site of the Hale fire," Dad starts. 

Stiles has read all he could get his hands on about that case - it's one of the worst tragedies to ever happen in Beacon Hills after all - but his dad had always refused to talk about it. He keeps still, biting his tongue so he doesn't ask too many questions and make Dad clam up.

"It was terrible, even with the firemen doing their best. Then we see this kid, Derek, running towards the house and before we could do anything to stop him, he was going in."

"In the burning house?" Stiles asks, horrified.

"Yes. I don't know what he was thinking, probably that he could get someone out. In fact, he helped save his uncle, but then he got trapped in the fire, too. When the firemen brought Derek and his uncle out, they were both –" Dad's breathing hitches as he remembers and Stiles can only imagine. "It was horrible. They were rushed to the hospital, but when I went to visit him the day after, Laura had checked her brother out against medical advice."

"What?" Stiles mind boggles. Why would anyone do that?

"She had him transferred to a specialized facility for burn victims, which I can understand, but so fast?" Dad shakes his head. "Melissa said the boy was conscious, vitals strong, and that he agreed so the hospital couldn't object. They left and as far as I know, Derek hasn't been back in Beacon Hills since."

Stiles thinks of the guy who saved him and how he barged in to help, with no hesitation for his own safety. It seems Derek Hale still has a hero complex. But why did he flee when the police, came, then? He had nothing to worry about, at least nothing the Beacon Hills cops know right now.

"Did you see him?" Dad asks, snapping Stiles out of his thoughts. "When he called 9-1-1?"

"Not really, there was so much happening. And it was really dark, too." At least that's not a lie. Still, Derek didn't want to be involved, so maybe Stiles can do him a favor. "He did what he could, he called you guys. There's no need to bother him, right? It's not like there's a big investigation to do, only a scuffle between gangs and I happened to be there. I'll swing by Laura's, thank him if he's still there, and that will be all."

"Take him a fruit basket?" Dad jokes.

Stiles laughs. "The biggest! With pineapples!"

"Okay, fine. I'll give him a call to thank him myself. The doctor said you're good to go, so let's go home."

That's absolutely fine with Stiles. The ibuprofen he was given earlier is starting to work, and it seems a massive bruise on his temple is the only damage he sustained, after all. He hops down from the exam table and follows, waving at Melissa who is on the phone at the desk as they pass by.

"I had the Jeep taken to the shop. I'll drop you there tomorrow to pick it up," Dad says. 

"Great, thanks." 

The more he thinks about it, the more the idea of going to see Derek to thank him becomes something Stiles thinks he needs to do. The guy probably saved his life, after all.

Anyway, everyone loves fruits, right?

 

***

Derek is listening to Laura's dramatic retelling of the latest adventure at the Youth Center – he thought she had more sense than to allow kids who like pranks access to glitter - when she stops and tilts her head, listening. Several seconds later, he hears it too: there's a car coming up the driveway. Derek stops chewing his sandwich at the face Laura makes.

"What's the problem?" he asks.

"I'm not expecting anyone," she says as they move to the front room to peer out the window.

The blue Jeep is old, almost falling apart in fact, but as soon as she spots it Laura breaks into a grin.

"Well well well, look who's here," she says, obviously pleased.

For a second Derek is lost before the guy gets out and he recognizes Stiles. 

"What the fuck?" Derek hisses. 

He thought Stiles hadn't seen him properly in the dark, but obviously he must have. He feels his stomach twist. Derek left Stiles by himself because he couldn't afford to be seen by anyone who would recognize him. His werewolf-induced healing left Derek with no burn scars at all from the fire ten years ago, which is a little bit too miraculous and could raise questions he doesn't want asked. 

Outside, Stiles walks to the passenger side of his car. He takes out what seems to be a huge basket; he then turns towards the door, takes a deep breath, and marches over.

"I'm going upstairs," Derek says, already in motion. "I'm not here, understood?" 

"I know," Laura says, though her smile is evil. "Can't be seen, all of that. I wonder how he tracked you down, though."

When the bell rings, Laura takes a minute before she walks over. Derek can only listen intently from his room.

"Hey, Stiles!" she exclaims, with way too much enthusiasm.

"Hi Laura, long time no see!" Stiles says, and Derek wishes he could see them interact without risking getting caught. 

"Is that for me?" Laura asks. "How wonderful!"

"That? Oh! No! You like it? I mean I brought it for Derek?" he stammers, not knowing Laura is playing with him, the poor sucker.

"Derek?"

"Hum, your brother Derek? Didn't he tell you how he saved someone last night from hooligans? That was me. Being saved I mean. My dad found out he's the one who called 9-1-1," Stiles says.

Of fucking course. Derek hadn't thought about the call being tracked, shit. Now he has to hope the police won't ask for a formal statement.

"Oh, yes, he did mention that," Laura says. "I'm glad he could help you. But look at what they did to your pretty face!" 

There's a meeping sound, probably Stiles as Laura gets way too touchy feely. She loves putting people off balance like that, just for fun.

"I'm fine, it looks worse than it is," Stiles says. "So, Derek?"

"He's not here, sorry." Laura seems to be guiding Stiles to the kitchen.

"Really? I thought that was his car next to your minivan? The spotless Camaro?" Stiles asks. Damn him, he's fast. 

"It is. But he just left on a hike, thirty minutes or so ago," she lies smoothly. Way to go Laura. "I'm not expecting him back for hours."

"Oh." Stiles definitely sounds disappointed. "That's too bad. I could come back later? Maybe after dinner?"

Derek has a sudden feeling it's going to be a pain to avoid Stiles, if he got it into his head to thank him in person.

"Look, my brother's weird," Laura says, making Derek roll his eyes. "He comes, he goes... He might be gone tonight for all I know."

"What? But he just got back, no?" Stiles should not sound so distressed at the news.

"Yes, he did. Look, I'll give him the basket. It's very nice of you, but you don't need to come back just for that."

"Damn," Stiles says softly. "It's important that I talk to him, in case my Dad calls to get his version of what happened."

"Why?" Laura asks, curious.

"Look, your brother saved my ass last night, for which I am very grateful. He knocked out five guys but disappeared in the night as if he was on the most wanted list. I had no idea they'd track him, so I might have, huh, done some creative retelling of the events to explain how I was surrounded with KO'd guys and no savior in sight. I'd like to run that by Derek so our versions match? Not that I normally support lying to the police or anything," Stiles says.

Okay, so it might be a good idea to talk to Stiles after all. 

"Fine, give me your phone, I'll punch in his number," Laura tells Stiles. "Call to get your stories straight, problem solved."

"Thanks, I will. I guess I'll go, then?" Stiles says, hesitant, as if he'd like to stay.

For a second Derek thinks Laura will offer Stiles coffee but, thankfully, she decides to get rid of him. 

"It was great seeing you, Stiles. You should come over to the Youth Center to help me motivate the troops for the upcoming fundraiser. You were a great help last year," Laura says as she walks Stiles back to the entrance.

"Oh, sure! I'll drop by next week, and we'll look into it?" 

"Excellent. Have a nice day."

"You too," Stiles says, as he walks towards his car. "Thank Derek for me again. Though I guess I'll be calling him." 

"Will do."

Looking out his room's window, Derek can't help but notice Stiles' nice shoulder to waist ratio and how huge his hands are. He's definitely older than Derek first thought in the darkness of the alley (he'd guess early twenties). Stiles is tall, thin, but nicely fit: exactly Derek's type, in fact. A shame, since he can't do a thing about it. Derek watches while Stiles throws his Jeep in reverse and drives away with a dorky wave to Laura. 

***

Stiles is jolted out of a fascinating article on Turkish mud wrestling - long story, no judging - when his phone rings. The screen says it's 'D' calling, just like Laura entered for her brother, and Stiles is unexpectedly nervous. He did send a _"I'm Stiles, the guy you saved last night. Got your # from 9-1-1. Call me please?"_ text earlier, it's not as if the call back is unexpected.

"Hey, hi!" he greets a bit over enthusiastically.

"Hi. Derek Hale. You called?"

Okay, so that's pretty clipped and business like. 

"I did. Did Laura fill you in, or…"

Derek cuts him off, still sounding annoyed. "She says we need to get our stories straight."

"Well, yeah. Because you were gone, and I had to explain how I was the last man standing," Stiles says.

"I had to go." Derek sounds defensive. "Laura said you're fine, anyway."

"I am, thanks to you," Stiles hurries to say. "And that's something I should have said last night, thank you. Without you I was toast."

"Not a problem, you are welcome," Derek says, sounding a bit mellower now. "So, what's the story you cooked up?"

"That I was cornered by a group of guys, that I thought I saw someone stop to call for help but then a second gang came along and beat the first guys up? And then they ran away when the sirens came?" Stiles winces because it does sound pretty lame.

There is an amused huff on the line. "And your dad bought that?"

"He was giving me the eyebrow of disbelief, but it's not like the thugs will say anything about a single guy beating them all up," Stiles argues. "That's why I thought I should warn you, in case he calls. I tried to convince him not to, but who knows."

"So I need to say that I called 9-1-1, but then I ran away because there were too many bad guys to stay and help?" Derek sounds offended.

"Geez, I am not trying to offend your ninja sensibility here!" Stiles says. What is this guy, even?

"Why?" Derek asks. "Why cover for me? I left you there, after all."

"After saving me, duh. I figured you had your reasons to pull a Batman."

There's a long silence and when Derek talks again his voice is cold. "I don't appreciate jokes about how my family is dead." 

Stiles actually flails, his stomach dropping in complete mortification. "Oh my god, no! No! I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that! I would never..."

There's an amused chuckle and Stiles stops tripping all over his words to glare at his phone. "You asshole! You did that on purpose!"

"Too easy. Listen, Stiles, I appreciate the head's up. From now on, I'd advise that you avoid walking around that part of town at night all by yourself, though. It's like you were looking for trouble."

"I know that!" Stiles protest. "My car broke down, and my cell battery was dead. It won't happen again."

"Good. Take care, Stiles."

Stiles is absolutely convinced that if he hangs up now, he'll never hear from Derek Hale again. He doesn't want that. "Hey, wait! Could we meet for coffee, or something?" 

Derek heaves a dramatic sigh, which is totally unwarranted in answer to a coffee offer.

"No, sorry," he does sound a bit apologetic at least, which doesn't soothe Stiles' disappointment much. "I don't like people. Being around people I mean. That's why I left."

Stiles doesn't know what to do with that, but before he can reply, Derek adds very softly. "I can't stand the staring."

For the second time in the conversation, Stiles feels something flip in his chest. Right, Derek was horribly burned, he must be scarred. Stiles understands not wanting to be looked at as a freak.

"Oh, I'm sorry man. My dad told me about... you know."

"Yeah. Anyway, I got the basket and I consider myself properly thanked. I've never owned as many bananas at one time, though."

Stiles laughs. "I might have gone a bit overboard?"

"You think? There are fruits I didn't even know _existed_ , Stiles," Derek sounds amused, so that's okay. 

"They looked cool!" When Stiles makes a gift basket, he does it in style.

"I need to go. Take care," Derek says once more and this time Stiles can't think of anything to keep him on the line.

"Okay. You too. Thanks again for saving me."

"No problem. Thanks for covering my exit, I consider us even. Bye." Derek hangs up immediately.

Stiles pouts at his phone, disappointed. He wishes he could have done more to thank Derek, he doesn't feel as if they are even at all. 

***

Two weeks of vacations - or finally sleeping in his own bed - made him lazy, because Derek's has slept through his alarm and it looks like he'll be stuck in traffic again. As he brushes his teeth, Derek realizes he's alone once more. For five years now, since Laura went back to Beacon Hills, he has sworn that living by himself, busy with his job (though with barely no social life), was exactly what he wanted, that having the liberty of coming back to his little apartment where he could do whatever he wanted, when he wanted, was the best thing that had happened to him in the history of forever, and that he was truly happy. 

Obviously, he had been lying to himself, because it's not even been three days since Derek came back to San José and he's lonely already. The quiet, while welcome before, is heavy now. There's no one to give him a lecture about using all of the hot water, no mocking recaps of the soap operas Laura records and then watches on fast forward, no belly laughs he can surprise out of Laura for the stupidest things. Derek also misses raiding the fridge in the middle of the night where Laura joined him for cookies. Living alone sucks right now. 

It's not like they haven't been in touch since Laura moved, they've spent the Christmas holidays together every year after all. But the two weeks in Beacon Hills brought them closer and Derek craves that connection. He might be an Omega as far as pack interaction goes, but Laura will always be his Alpha; Derek is drawn to the idea of joining her orbit again. He pretended not to notice how Laura had tears in her eyes when he left. She misses him too, he's sure of that. Derek's weakening her by staying away, with no Beta, and he feels guilty about it once more.

He spits in the sink while listening to the sounds of the strangers who live in his block getting ready for their day, and it becomes too much. He can at least call Laura, no? It's not ideal, but it's something. 

She answers after only one ring. "Are you okay?"

"Whoa, there, calm down," Derek says, feeling her anxious energy vibrating along the phone line. "I'm fine."

"Yes? Oh, that's good. What's the problem, then?"

"Do I need a problem to call you?"

"No, but you usually do!"

"No problem at all. I just felt like calling." Derek can't help the defensive tone, Laura always bring it out of him.

Laura switches to teasing. "Could it be that you are missing me, Boo?"

"Yeah, dream on," Derek says, and it comes out more fond than annoyed. It's the truth and they both know it. 

"So, are you heading back into the woods today?" Laura asks. 

"Yes, a basic wilderness survival course. Two full days," Derek says, making a last check of his backpack.

Laura laughs. "Oh, fun, rookies!" 

It's possible that Derek complained often and at length about how high the idiots-to-decent-people ratio is in the basic classes. 

"I'd like to see how funny you'd find it to have to get up in the middle of the night to rescue morons from under their collapsed shelters."

"I'm sure it's hilarious. Speaking of work, I have to go soon. Stiles should come over again today. He found out yesterday why my frigging computer won't recognize the printer anymore, but then he freaked when he learned that I had no real backup of my hard drive," Laura says.

Derek can't help it, he perks up at the mention of Stiles' name. "He helps with the computers at the center?"

"Yes, he's a godsend some days. I didn't tell you that he's a computer technician? He mostly work at BHHS, but he does contracts here and there on the side. He always donates his time here, though."

"That's cool." Derek has a sudden vision of Stiles in dorky glasses and yeah, that would be hot. He's ready to admit he's spent way too much time thinking about Stiles lately.

"He keeps asking questions about you, by the way," Laura adds.

That's surprising. "About me?"

"Yeah. He looked disappointed when I said you'd left, but then the questions started about where you lived, what you did for a living, if you had a girlfriend... I think you caught his eye, Boo."

Derek dismisses the idea right away. "Nah, that's impossible. He didn't even see me. He's just a nosy little shit."

Laura laughs again. "That, too." There's a pause and she curses. "Shit, is it 8 already? Dammit, I'm going to be late. Call me tonight?"

"I can't because of the overnight stay," Derek says. He takes his phone on the mountain, but it's for emergencies only, no time for social calls.

"Right, fine. Then call when you can? Love you!" Laura chirps before hanging up. 

"Sure, I'll do that. Bye Laura!" Derek tells absolutely no one, but he's smiling nonetheless. 

So Stiles is curious about him still, even weeks later. It seems fair right now because Derek has been thinking about Stiles since their phone call, too. If they'd met outside of Beacon Hills, he has the feeling they'd hit it off. It's a shame they'll never get the chance. 

He keeps playing the conversation he had with Stiles in his head, surprised at how fast he went from annoyed to amused at the time. Derek even made a _joke_ about his family being dead, he has no idea what even possessed him to do so. Stiles had fallen right into his trap, too, and listening to him trying to dig himself out of a hole, and then the banter... Okay, fine, Derek has thought about Stiles a lot. He had to lie to keep Stiles away, had to imply that he was scarred from the burns caused by the fire, which obviously means that they can never meet in person, but maybe they could be friends.

He might come to regret this, but Derek takes a picture of the lychees he bought on impulse at the market just because he thought they looked funny and sends it over to Stiles with a question.

**Why not one of these?**

 

***

Stiles swallows his mouthful of coffee wrong when he sees that the incoming text is from D. A message from Derek Hale, really?

"Are you okay, man?" Scott asks as Stiles coughs and coughs.

"Yes, I'm fine," Stiles says, staring at the short text and opening the attached pic. For a minute he has no idea what the couple of reddish-brown spiky balls in a bowl could be. Are those lychees? He has no idea why Derek is texting him period, but a strange fruit? It's only when the fact that it's a picture of a frigging _fruit_ registers that Stiles gets the reference to the basket and he grins. 

"Stiles?" Scott asks. "Who is it?"

"Derek Hale!" Stiles had told Scott all about his adventures in the alley, of course. Scott seemed skeptical about Derek kicking ass as easily as Stiles remembered and judged the fact that he'd left Stiles by himself and didn't want to meet him after. Scott is adorably overprotective. 

Scott frowns. "What does he want?" 

"Nothing, it's just an inside joke," Stiles says, gnawing on his thumbnail as he wonders what to text back.

He settles on: _Because I kept the lychees for my Cosmos! Delicious, btw :)_

Derek's reply arrives moments later.

**Cosmos? Really?**

_Are you judging me right now? Cosmos are great, especially with lychees!_

**I'll try it, then. Gotta go, couple of days in the wild for work**

Right, Laura told Stiles that Derek gives survival courses around San José, which is pretty cool. 

_Cool. Beware of the bears!_

**Please. The bears are afraid of *me***

Stiles laughs out loud at that, and hurries to text back.

_For sure, Batman. Txt me when you're back, as proof of life?_

**Sure. Later then**

_Bye!_

When Stiles pocket his phone, he looks up to see Scott watching him with raised eyebrows. 

"What?" Stiles says, defensive.

"You're texting him now?" Scott asks.

"Seems like it!" Stiles says. It's a great development, in fact. He'd thought about texting Derek himself, but never dared because he was convinced it would be unwelcome. 

Over the last two weeks, Stiles curiosity got the better of him, and he went through the yearbooks in the principal's office until he found Derek. For some reason Stiles had expected a surly teen, but it had been a shock to see a downright pretty boy with a dorky grin. Derek was gorgeous at sixteen, - looked a lot like Laura in fact - with dark hair and expressive eyes. There had been pictures of him with the baseball team, too, and to think that ball of sunshine had lost everything so young, and got badly burned on top of it all made Stiles' heart hurt. 

"Aren't you going to the Youth Center today?" Scott's question brings Stiles out of his thoughts.

"Yes, I told Laura I'd back up her computer. I can't believe she isn't more careful with that shit," Stiles says. 

"Surely there's a middle ground between no back ups at all and your complete paranoia," Scott says, nudging Stiles' foot with a smile.

"You say that now, but you'll thank me forever if something happens at the clinic!" Stiles says, finishing his coffee. 

Stiles brushes his fingers on his phone as they leave the coffee shop to go to their respective work places, still shocked that Derek took the initiative to text him. They have an agreement that Derek will be the one to contact him again, and Stiles really hopes he will. It wouldn't be a good idea to text him first, he would look overeager and... wow. This is almost as stressful as a 'should I call/text or not' after meeting someone. Why do social interactions have to be so complicated? 

***

Derek has been distracted the whole trip with the class, alternately happy that he'd cracked and texted Stiles, only to convince himself that he'd made a terrible mistake right after (and then he'd circle back again to delighted because his banter with Stiles was the most fun he's had in a while). Befriending someone from Beacon Hills, the Sheriff's son on top of it all, is a time bomb and he knows it. Yes, he's a bit lonely, but Derek could make friends in San José, real life people with whom he could do actual activities – hiking, movies, going out, get laid, even! - instead of living like an ornery old man and turning down every friendly (or flirty) overture thrown his way.

But, life being unfair, he had his interest piqued by a young smartass from his hometown, and now Derek is agonizing over whether he should pursue this or not. No, that's not it, he _knows_ he shouldn't, but he wants to. Really bad. It's been a very long time since he's wanted anything, and even more since he gave into his desires.

Derek's first reflex, when he drops his students back at the head office, is to check his phone, but there are no messages in his in-box. He represses a surprising stab of disappointment because the emotion is stupid: why would Stiles have texted him when Derek said he'd be the one to do it when he came back? The feeling makes him pause, though, because if he has expectations now, how bad could it get if they actually become friends? 

Back home, after a shower and a couple of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, Derek decides to go out to Jim's, to clear his head. It's a small bar two blocks over where the music isn't too loud, especially this early in the evening.

"Hey handsome," Clara the barmaid says with a smile when she reaches his usual table in the back. "Long time no see!"

"Yeah, I went to visit my sister," Derek offers, and Clara grins wider. Derek brought Laura over a couple of times and the two women had gotten along a bit too well. There had even been a very unsubtle effort by Laura to pair them up, but Clara was happily married and totally uninterested in Derek, which was actually pretty great. 

"Really? That's awesome! How is she?" Clara asks.

"She's good," Derek says with a nod. "Thanks."

"Feel like eating something?" she asks.

Derek shakes his head. The food at Jim's tastes great, but almost everything is deep-fried. "Nah, I just ate. I'll take a beer. Got anything new?" The bar's manager rotates through local product and microbreweries regularly. 

"I heard good comments on a new black stout," Clara suggests.

"Okay, sure." 

As Clara gets his drink, Derek observes three guys playing pool in the back. They're most probably in their late twenties and, at first glance, look sympathetic enough. They don't ping Derek's gaydar at all, but he's looking more for company than for someone to fuck anyway. He's half convinced himself to go ask if he can join the game when Clara comes back with his beer and a glass.

"There you go," she says. "Holler if you need anything else."

Derek thanks her, and when he sees the label on the bottle of beer he can't help a snort-laugh. It's called the Big Bear Black Stout and has, predictably, the drawing of a bear within a star on the label; it feels like a sign given his previous text conversation with Stiles. It's as if the decision has been taken out of Derek's hands, somehow, as stupid as it sounds: a bear on a label is the proof that he's meant to text Stiles again. Shut up, it is. Derek pours the dark black beer in the glass, takes a sip (it's pretty good, actually) and sets the bottle beside the glass to take a picture with his phone, making sure the drawing is visible. The lighting isn't ideal, but it makes a decent enough image that he then texts to Stiles.

**Made it back to civilization A-OK, but I'm pretty sure the bear doesn’t have long to live.**

He puts the phone back in his pocket, telling himself it might take hours for Stiles to answer since it's a Friday night and _he_ probably has a social life and a ton of real life friends. Certainly Stiles hasn't been checking his phone all day, and he probably forgot that he asked Derek to text him. Derek won't hang on to his phone like a teen anxious for a reply, because that would be ridiculous. 

Derek takes another gulp of beer and as he's getting up to at least observe the pool game and the guys playing from closer, his phone chimes with a text, making his heart skip. Already? A quick look confirms it's Stiles and Derek smiles, sitting back down. 

_Welcome back! But dude, I've got to say that even I could take down that kind of bear!_

Self-consciousness rendered moot by the rapidity of Stiles' reply, Derek doesn't wait before texting back.

**Really? Pretty far from a Cosmo + Lychees… just saying**

_ha ha ha, you are hilarious_  
 _btw? that was sarcasm, dude_

Derek sprawls back in his chair and gets comfortable. Screw the guys playing pool, this is what he's interested in.

**I got that, thank you for the condescending tone. And stop calling me dude.**

_Ohhh, touchy ;)_  
 _So, how was the field trip? Did anyone get horribly hurt/poisoned/lost?_

It seems easier, somehow, to make small talk by text than what he generally manages in person. Derek starts typing, beer forgotten.

***

Stiles saves the pictures from Derek's latest email in his 'Stuff & Things" folder and sets the one of the wolves as his new wallpaper. It's a beautiful shot; Derek must have a hell of a zoom to catch such a close-up picture without being in danger. The biggest wolf is showing his fangs, clearly in a warning, while the other adult, also looking straight at the camera, looks considering, head tilted. Three adorable cubs are also looking in Derek's direction, half hidden by a log. The photograph is from Derek's latest trip in Oregon, and Stiles reads the email again. 

_Hey Stiles,_

_Don't know about your vacations, but mine went way too fast. It's been a while since my last camping trip for fun (and no, the survival classes don't count)._

_I'm sure I shouldn't tell you this – you're an asshole and love to make fun of me, you know it, I know it, you know that I know it – but I brought a backpack with two changes of clothes, a blanket, a knife, a pan, a canteen, my camera and that's it. I made do for the rest (food, shelter, etc.), because I'm just that good ;)_

_I've attached a couple of pics:_  
\- _A panorama shot on the second day. There's a stream down the ravine, it was gorgeous. (no trace of human beings at all, looked like paradise)_  
\- _The heavy fog I woke up to one morning. Was a bit eerie, everything muted_  
\- _The wolves are the Alphas of the local pack, with their cubs. I didn't stay long, the Alpha didn't particularly appreciate me encroaching on his territory_  
\- _Dinner! (Those are rabbits, btw. Delicious.)_

_Didn't see any bears. My reputations must have preceded me._

_When I came back to my car, there was a commotion in the parking lot. The local police had set up a tented headquarters, with maps and everything, because a couple of teens had gone missing from a party in the woods two days before. There was a group of volunteers ready to search the area, dozens of deputies, the dog squad aka the whole shebang. Got info on what was going on and then I went to look for them myself (I didn't feel like joining the organized grid search and lose all day). The idiots somehow managed to get truly turned around, but their trail was easy enough to find, then follow. To say that they were happy to see me would be an understatement, especially since the girl had twisted her ankle. Brought/carried them back to a main trail, pointed them in the right direction and skipped. Didn't feel like being fussed over, you know how I get. So that happened. Good deed done or something._

_Tomorrow, I'm back at work and I don't feel like it. I just saw my bed/pillow and they're calling to me._

_How was San Francisco? Did you have fun? Well, it seems like it reading the 34 texts from you that filled my in-box when I opened my phone (34!!!). You knew I was gone for a week, right? Anyway, you should tell me what shenanigans you managed to get into in the big city. I'm sure something happened, since it's you we're talking about._

_Ok, gotta go, I have laundry to do before I go to bed. Ugh._

_Derek_

Stiles grins and checks the pictures again. Photography is Derek's favorite hobby apart from working out - so he says - and he's really good, whether it is for nature shots or in a city setting. He has a gift where he captures wild animals in their every day life, as if he manages to approach them stealthily (though that one deer, from a few weeks back, had looked terrified as it looked towards the camera). The city pictures are generally of architectural details or people doing ordinary things, unaware that they are being caught by Derek's camera. No coworkers or students, except that one time when one fell down a ravine (that one came by text, with a "seriously???!!?"), and for certain never a pic with Derek himself in it. In fact, today's photo with the roasting rabbits features the only part of the guy Stiles has ever seen, a view of long jean-clad legs, ending with crossed feet in worn hiking boots propped at the edge of the fire pit where dinner is cooking. He wants to see what Derek looks like, all of him, but he understands that Derek is reluctant to show his burn-scarred face. 

They've been exchanging emails on top of texts for four months now. Stiles is sharing more with Derek than he does with Scott these days, anything from one-word texts, a picture to long rambling emails. The texting started mellow, every few days or so, but it's almost daily now and it always make Stiles smile. Derek is made of dry wit and sarcasm, with a surprisingly dark sense of humor that sometimes makes Stiles howl with laughter. 

Over time, they've gotten to know each other pretty well, from arguing about music (Derek has the taste of a fifty-year-old, stuck in the 70's rock as he is), discussing movies (he never said, but Stiles suspects Derek's a closet romantic), and everything else under the sun. Stiles took to replying to Derek's occasional emails full of cat gifs or funny videos with links to weird factoids and conspiracy theories. 

In between the silly stuff, from time to time, serious topics slip in. Stiles talks about how he worries about his dad while Derek confessed how he punched through his bedroom wall a few weeks back because he'd seen a kid looking almost exactly like his dead little brother. Mother's day passed without either of them alluding to it, and every Tuesday night they watch a couple of old episodes of LOST together, chatting away while doing so. Their mocking sessions are epic, especially after season 2. Stiles had suggested Skype once, but Derek shot him down immediately and avoided all contact for five whole days, so Stiles never brought that up again.

Stiles loves that Derek seems interested in whatever subject Stiles find himself invested in out of the blue. Not everyone bothers - and Derek might only be indulging him, who knows - but he did ask insightful questions on Stiles' almost-essay on the history of soft serve ice cream, complete with estimated sales numbers since 1938. Scott, when shown his research, had rolled his eyes and took Stiles out to eat some instead, which when he thinks about it, was pretty nice of him. It's freeing, having an audience and someone to vent to. Derek does his fair share of complaining, too, generally about how everyone is stupid and gets on his last nerve.

The rescue story is intriguing, and Stiles will have to Google the town of Enterprise in Oregon in the next few days (he'd had a field day with that name when Derek had said he was entering the woods over there). Maybe the teens that were rescued would be interviewed and mention Derek, that would be cool. Stiles can't resist a quick text, even though it's true he might overdo it some days. It's not his fault that he sometimes sends messages before he thinks them through.

_So, you saved someone again, huh? Two people, even! One might get the idea you actually like people, careful!_

There's a reply not even five minutes later.

**Take that back, I DON'T.**

Stiles can't help himself:

 _Not even little me? I'm hurt ;_;_

**Okay, maybe *you*. Sometimes. Rarely. Against my better judgment.**

It's stupid, but Stiles' heart skips at that. There is a possibility he might be crushing on a guy he's never even seen. 

_awww, you liiiiiiike me! I knew it! *beams*_

**shut up or I'll take it back**

Shutting up has never been Stiles' forte so he laughs and teases Derek again. Harmless almost flirting can't hurt, right?

***

Derek considers Stiles a friend now, and the fact that they only interact through electronic devices has made it easier to open up, to trust a little. Stiles gets his sense of humor, that much is clear, and their banter makes Derek laugh more than he has in years. They've never talked on the phone, though, a line that Derek supposes Stiles is waiting for him to cross. He expected Stiles to take the initiative on this for weeks now since, after all, Derek did start the texting. On the other hand, Stiles is the one who asked for his email address so maybe the ball is in his court. 

The nights are chilly in the Santa Cruz Mountains in October, and he can hear his student's teeth chattering from his shelter. It's been a long day, where he explained the basics of water purification and techniques to harvest common plants and animals. Most of the group is interested enough in the different lessons, but one of the girls has hit on him relentlessly all day. He's not even surprised when he hears her approach in the middle of the night.

"Derek?" she whispers.

"Is there a problem Stacey?" He might not get as cold as humans do, but Derek doesn't want to leave his sleeping bag. He sits up and turns on his flashlight as she ducks under the tarp he set up to block the wind. 

Stacey definitely knows what she wants, and the smile she gives him is downright predatory. Too bad she doesn't know it's a turn off, making her look a bit too much like Kate. 

"I thought we could, maybe, warm each other," she says with a wink.

She's a very pretty girl - curly brown hair, bright blue eyes and legs that go on for miles – and Derek is tempted. He hasn't gotten laid in a while, and this would be a no strings attached hook-up, no complications, and exactly what he's generally looking for. It's on the job, though, which he's always avoided until now, therefore, he hesitates long enough that Stacey takes it like an agreement. She's in the process of straddling his legs when they jump at the sound of Derek's phone going off. The song playing is the musical intro of "I'm Alive" by Shinedown; Derek set it as Stiles' custom ring tone weeks ago, when Stiles sent him the Avengers soundtrack. 

"Let it go to voice mail," Stacey murmurs into his ear. She has started unzipping his sleeping bag but it only helps Derek to free a hand in order to grab his phone.

"I don't think so, it's my boyfriend," Derek says, not interested in her at all anymore. 

Stacey looks shocked, and to her credit, backs up immediately as Derek gives her a toothy smile.

"Hey Stiles," he answers as she winces and mouths 'I'm sorry!'. Derek shrugs, replying 'it's okay' in the same way. 

"Derek!" Stiles says, or in fact yells in the phone while a heavy beat of bass booms in the background. "Heyyyy!"

Obviously, Stiles is calling him from a club, and when Derek checks the time it's 2:15 in the morning. They exchanged texts earlier and Stiles was supposed to go see a movie with that girl he's interested in, Sarah. Maybe they went out afterwards? Stacey has gone back to her shelter so Derek doesn’t have to keep the pretense of being unavailable anymore.

"How's the date going?" Derek asks.

"What?" Stiles yells in the telephone. "Sorry, sorry, I can't hear anything, let me – ooops, my bad, excuse me, I'm just, let me –"

The background noise changes: the music is suddenly muffled and Stiles is a lot clearer. "Derek? Derek are you still there?"

"I'm here," Derek answers, lying back down. "So, how's the date going?"

"What date?" Stiles sounds totally confused. "Are you on a date?"

It dawns on Derek that Stiles might not be totally sober. "I'm not on a date, idiot, I'm at work. I meant you, with Sarah."

"Ohhh, right! With the bears and all. You're sleeping in a hammock under the stars tonight, I forgot!" Stiles over-enunciates 'hammock', which confirm a thing or two. 

"I think you don't have a good grasp of what my job is, Stiles." A hammock, really? Only Stiles. "Are you drunk dialing me?"

Stiles laughs, which make something tingle in Derek's stomach after having imagined it a hundred times in the last months. 

"I might be a tiny bit wasted," Stiles admits. "A little tiny weeny bit."

Which of course means he's drunk as a skunk. Derek should tell him to go sleep it off and call him back tomorrow, that he has to keep his phone's battery charged in case there is an emergency, but he doesn't want to hang up. 

"So, that's a yes on drunk dialing, got it," Derek says. "Why aren't you with Sarah?" 

"Please, please don't make me remember how disaster, huh disastrous that was. I've been drinking like a fish to forget it all, Derek. Ugh."

"Sounds pretty bad, sorry." The thing is that Derek isn't as sorry as he should be. He had a bad vibe about Sarah from the get go (and no, it's not really stalking if a profile is public on Facebook, everyone knows that).

"Yeah." Stiles heaves a world-weary sigh. "Why is it so hard to find someone to love who wants you back, Derek? Who gets you, who you really are, and accepts it?"

They've reached the existentialism part of the call, it seems. Valid question, though, one Derek asks himself a lot. Stiles is cute, funny, is always interesting, has a good job… it's only a matter of time before he finds the right person. Derek knows he's a little too invested, that he finds flaws in everyone Stiles meets because he's more than a little gone on the guy, but he tries to be supportive anyway. That's what friends do, right? 

"You'll find her, Stiles," Derek says. 

"Her or him, you know that," Stiles protests. He'd made sure to let Derek know he was bisexual early on in a way that had felt like a test, a 'if you aren't cool with it, we can't be friends' kind of way. He'd been pleased to learn Derek was bi too. 

"Or you'll find him. What went wrong?" Derek asks.

"Everything. She didn't want to eat while watching the movie and judged me when I asked for butter on my popcorn." He sounds agitated, and Derek can imagine him gesturing with his free hand. Butter on popcorn isn't Derek's thing either, to be honest, but to each their own. "She didn't outright say it, but I'm good at reading faces, okay? Right. But then… I thought I'd take her to see a classic, right? To be sure the movie is good?"

"Good call," Derek says.

"She hadn't seen it before." Obviously, it's a movie Stiles likes a lot, because his tone is disbelieving. He basically screeches out the next part. "But what's worse is that she didn't like it! How is that even possible?"

"What movie?" Derek knows all about Stiles' love of B movies, he's reserving judgment on Sarah's taste for the moment.

"The Fifth fucking Element, Derek! She said she never got Bruce Willis! Oh my God!"

Okay, so Derek is now judging Sarah's taste. So hard. "Really? Wow!"

"I know, right? That threw me, you have no idea. It's a great movie! And come on, Bruce Willis! I'm not sure I could spend the rest of my life with someone who doesn't like Bruce Willis. What about the annual Christmas Die Hard marathons, Derek?"

"They should be mandatory, if you ask me," Derek says. "Bruce Willis could totally still get it." He's always had a thing for sarcastic assholes.

Stiles laughs out loud. "Damn right."

Derek listens, enraptured. Imagines Stiles in an alley behind a club, leaning against a brick wall, his breath fogging the cool air as he laughs, and Derek longs for something he'll never have. 

When Stiles speaks again, it's softer. "See? You get it. You get _me_."

It makes Derek's heart jump. Before he can reply – though he has no idea what to say – there's the renewed sound of the club. He hears a voice calling Stiles' name.

"Right here, Scott!" Stiles says. "Hey, man, buddy!" 

Derek has never met Scott, but he's heard all about him and his big heart, how he has a puppy face and is the perfect friend unless he's too preoccupied by his fantastic girlfriend. Derek is irrationally jealous of Scott for making Stiles sound so fond even in writing and at the same time he's glad Scott always seems to be there for Stiles, as a good friend should be. 

"C'mon dude, I'm taking you home," Derek hears Scott say. "You're not drunk dialing Danny again, are you?"

Danny? Derek grits his teeth. He's never liked Danny either, who sounds too good to be true in Stiles' stories. Derek might be envious of everyone who interacts with Stiles in person, to be honest.

"No no no! It's Derek! He agrees Bruce Willis is a total DILF, don't you Derek?" Stiles says, back on the line with him with a giggle.

"Yeah. Go home, Stiles. It's late, I'm getting up in less than three hours," Derek says. Not that he'll be able to sleep now, but it's the principle of things.

"For real? Oh, shit, I'm sorry, I didn't think-"

Derek cuts him off. "I'm glad you called, it was great talking with you." 

"Yes, it was," Stiles says, a smile in his voice. "Maybe we could do it again, sometime?"

"I'd love that. Talk to you soon." 

"Awesome, bye!" Before Stiles disconnects the call, he can hear Stiles whoop in joy and Scott being disbelieving in the background 'Derek Hale? real-"

Derek hits his head on the ground several times, cursing the universe for letting him meet Stiles but having him remain just out of reach. He wouldn't trade that torture for anything, though.

***

Stiles is walking towards Oak Street when he spots a shiny black car a couple of blocks down, driving east. It's a Camaro, just like Derek's, and Stiles can't help the way his heartbeat spikes at that. It's pathetic, that's what it is, since Derek isn't the only guy who drives a black Chevy; it doesn't mean anything. On the other hand, it's Thanksgiving Wednesday, so it would make sense for Derek to be in town to visit Laura.

It's been a couple of weeks since liquid courage helped Stiles finally call Derek after that disastrous date. He was sloshed, but not enough to forget about it, and anyway it was Derek who called back, late the following day. They'd started shooting the shit like they talked on the phone all the time, the banter flowed between them, and Stiles had hung up the phone that night with a huge grin on his face. 

They'd talked every day since, though Stiles hadn't dared ask what Derek had planned for Thanksgiving. It's insensitive to ask that to someone who's lost almost his whole family, right? On the other hand, Stiles had told Derek all about his very basic plans with his dad, in a not that subtle ploy to get the info. Unfortunately, Derek had remained completely silent about his own plans. In close to six months of texting/emailing and now talking to the guy, Stiles has learned that Derek is an expert at deflecting subjects he doesn't want to talk about, and family is one of them.

Lost in thought, he runs into a girl, shoulder checking her by accident. He hits her _hard_ , though she doesn't even seem to move. 

Rubbing his shoulder, Stiles apologizes. "Oh, god, I'm so sorry!" 

It turns out he almost bowled over Laura, who grins when she recognizes him. 

"Stiles! Hi!"

"Hi! Are you okay?" Stiles asks. Their shoulders connected hard, or at least it did for Stiles, who'd swore he hit a cement wall instead of a slender woman. 

She frowns, as if puzzled about what Stiles is talking about, and then her eyes zoom on Stiles rubbing his shoulder and she makes a face before bringing her own hand up to hers. "Oh, that? I'm fine, no worries."

"Sorry anyway. I wasn't looking where I was going."

Laura dismisses the apology with a smile and a hand wave. "It's all good." 

She has her car keys in one hand, and her smile turns more calculating as she tilts her head.

"You know, you just missed Derek," she says.

Stiles freezes and he must be blushing because Laura's smile stretches.

"Really? That's too bad. Is he staying for Thanksgiving?" he asks as casually as he can.

Laura nods, grinning now. "Yep. And I think it's about time you guys meet, so you should come over. Want to hop in?" She twists her car keys on her finger.

He's tempted, for sure. He'd love to meet Derek properly, at last, but every time Stiles brought it up, Derek has always been pretty inflexible about it.

"Oh, well, my car is at school, so-" 

"Don't worry about that," Laura says. "We'll give you a lift back, come on."

Stiles thinks it's a bad idea, but he learned a long time ago that arguing with Laura Hale rarely gives results. He follows her to her minivan and spends the whole ride towards the Hale house trying to stop his knee from bouncing. He tries to cover his nerves by babbling about Coach Finstock's latest adventures with the Lacrosse team.

When they pull up at the house, Stiles can't find words anymore, and he wrings his fingers nervously. He really hopes Derek isn't angry. After all, he hasn't told Stiles he was coming into town so, obviously, he hadn't planned to see him. Stiles exits the car with Laura and hesitates before closing the door.

"Are you sure-" he asks, looking at the house, breath catching when he sees drapes moving in a first floor window. 

Looking back at Laura, he sees her tilt her head up at the house and frown. "Don't be ridiculous. He's here now, deal with it."

The words are a little bit harsh, though Laura then looks directly at Stiles and smiles reassuringly.

"Yes, I'm sure. Derek's being an ass with the secrecy. You're our friend, right? You care about him?" she asks.

"Of course. But-"

"I trust you. And I know Derek trusts you too. Just keep an open mind and everything will be fine," Laura says as she grabs Stiles' elbow and guides him into the house. 

Does she mean they trust him not to react badly to Derek's scars? Not let it change anything? Of course, Stiles doesn't care about that, he likes _Derek_.

"His room is the first one on the right," Laura says, nudging Stiles towards the stairs. "Oh, shut up, Derek! Man up, you know it's time!" she adds, a little louder even though Stiles didn't hear Derek at all.

"Okay," Stiles says, going up the stairs while Laura all but cuts off his line of escape, arms crossed over her chest and raising her eyebrows so he doesn't chicken out half way up. 

When he reaches Derek's closed door, Stiles doesn't dare knock but sits on the floor with his back to it. He hears faint movement on the other side, knows Derek is doing the same.

"I'm sorry," Stiles says. "I thought you might have wanted to see me."

There's a big sigh and Stiles can't help but smile. Derek does tend to be a bit of a drama queen, it showed even through text.

"That's not it, I do want to see you," Derek says, and his voice is so close, right on the other side of the door, it does things to Stiles' insides. "It's just... it will change everything."

"No, it won't."

"Yes. Believe me, it will," Derek says with conviction.

How sad is that? It's hurtful, too, that Derek thinks Stiles cares so much about appearance. 

"I don't give a fuck what you look like, Derek," Stiles replies, just as fierce. "How shallow do you think I am?"

He hears a pained sound through the door, almost a whine. "I don't... I know you don't care, it's not that."

"Then what is it?" Stiles says, getting agitated. Derek isn't making any sense.

The next words are so low Stiles barely hears them. "I don't want to lose what we have. When you know, you'll only see the monster and –"

"Whoa whoa whoa!" Stiles objects. "A monster? For the love of God, Derek! I know you, okay, I care about you. I could never think of you as a monster, ever. You are the first person who crosses my mind when I wake up, and you're always right there in my thoughts until I fall asleep. When something happens to me, when I see interesting shit, my first impulse is that I can't wait to share it with you. That means something, okay? I don't want to make things weird between us, I know you might not feel for me what I feel for you and that's okay, but I'm pretty sure I'm in love with you. So don't you _dare_ presume I'll react badly at seeing you, you son of a bitch."

Stiles ends his tirade panting, emotions high. He's vibrating with anger and he knows he maybe fucked everything up by confessing his feelings like this, but he can't keep it inside anymore. So many times in the last few weeks Stiles stopped himself from sending a text asking, "Do you think it's possible to fall in love with someone you've never seen?" but he always chickened out. Like Derek said earlier, he didn't want to strain their friendship. Too late, now, the cat is out of the bag.

Derek is completely silent on the other side of the door and Stiles starts to fidget. "Jesus, say something, anything. Let me down gently or –"

"Close your eyes," Derek says.

"What?"

"Please, trust me on this. I need to talk to you, before. I don't want to do it through a fucking door. Please, Stiles. Just give me a minute," Derek pleads.

"Okay, okay," Stiles says, doing as asked. He feels the door give behind him and can't help but hold his breath. 

This is it.

***

There are no words strong enough to describe what Stiles' little speech did to him. Derek feels light headed, elated that his feelings are returned but also terrified that the lie he told Stiles when they first met will ruin everything. Laura said earlier that she trusts Stiles, that she thinks he won't freak out about the werewolf secret, but Derek's been burned before, a bit too literally. He _hopes_ Stiles won't care, won't run away screaming, but what if he does? He's the closest friend Derek has. He loves Stiles, too, and being rejected? It would crush him, he knows.

Derek loves that for the first time in his life, there is someone who likes him for his personality first, and not his looks. Stiles took the time to get to know him, and he understands that even if Derek's brusque sometimes, he cares and he's just bad at communication (though, to be honest, it's been easier in writing. It's a good thing they didn't jump right into phone calls). 

Now, Stiles is right there, sitting in the corridor before him, his heart racing as much as Derek's. He smells nervous, a little bit scared, and Derek lets his eyes roam over Stiles' wide shoulders, takes in the way his hands are spread on his thighs, eyes closed but mouth slightly open, expectant. He's absolutely gorgeous. 

When Derek puts a hand on his shoulder he can feel a shudder go through Stiles, echoed in his own body. Jesus, this will be the death of him. 

"Thank you. Keep your eyes closed, okay?" Derek asks, surprised at how gravelly his voice sounds. He takes one of Stiles' hands to help him up, and then guides him to sit on his bed.

"Maybe you should blindfold me, it would be easier," Stiles jokes, trying to diffuse the tension.

Derek smiles, absurdly fond. "Good idea." 

There aren't many options close by to blindfold Stiles so Derek whips his t-shirt off and rolls it loosely. When he carefully presses it against Stiles' eyes then knots it behind his head, Stiles laughs.

"For real? You kinky fucker," he teases, smile wide and bright.

Derek cannot resist anymore. He kneels between Stiles legs and leans in close, not even an inch between their faces. "You have no idea," he murmurs.

Stiles surges forward to kiss him, making a broken sound in the back of his throat. When Stiles raises his hands to take hold of Derek's face, he intercepts Stiles' wrists and, gently but firmly, brings his hands down so they rest against the bed. He can't let Stiles figure out that there aren't any scars yet. Derek kisses Stiles back, his stomach doing crazy summersaults when their tongues touch and slide together, soft and wet.

"No touching yet," Derek chastises between two kisses, squeezing Stiles' wrists for emphasis. When Stiles smirks, Derek hurries to add, "and no, I won't handcuff you to make it easier."

Stiles laughs again. "Maybe some other time, then. Sheriff's kid, here. I can get real ones easily."

Derek's good mood sinks a bit at that. Will there be another time? If he tells Stiles everything right now, will this kiss be the only one they ever share? He wants to believe that everything will be okay, so much. 

"Kiss me again," Stiles demands when Derek hovers, too busy worrying.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." Stiles nods vigorously, so Derek does it again, a bit harder this time, hungry. 

He's hard and he can smell Stiles' own arousal clearly, making Derek's head spin with want. The kissing amps up and Derek lets go of Stiles' wrists to shove and manhandle him until he's lying on the bed, Stiles making eager sounds at the proceedings. It's a visible struggle for Stiles to keep his hands on the mattress, so Derek guides them up over his head, to the slats in the headboard that Stiles grips immediately. 

"Oh, God," he pants, his body arching up, trying to reach Derek's. 

"I want you so much," Derek says, sliding his hands under Stiles' t-shirt, caressing his taut stomach, nails scratching at a surprisingly hairy happy trail.

"Me, too. Derek, please," Stiles whines, hips bucking up. He's hard, straining against his jeans and Derek's mouth waters.

They should talk before having sex, but Derek is selfish. He wants Stiles, if only once. 

"Are you sure?" Derek asks again.

Stiles groans in frustration. "Yes, yes I'm sure! Stop asking and fuck me!"

"You ask so nicely," Derek says, getting off the bed to fetch lube and a condom from his duffel, then gets rid of his clothes. Stiles is still holding the headboard, face turned towards him as if listening intently for whatever he can hear. Humans have dull senses as a rule, but maybe being blindfolded helps. 

"I'm going to make you feel so good," Derek promises as he comes back to the bed, working on Stiles' belt. 

He undresses Stiles like unwrapping a present, kissing the skin exposed as it appears. Stiles squirms under the attention, extremely responsive and vocal about it. He's urging Derek to go faster, get to the point already, a deep flush covering his upper body as he pants with desire. Derek avoids rubbing against Stiles because he's afraid he'll lose control and come too fast.

"You're such a tease, fuck," Stiles says as Derek licks at Stiles' abs, along the edge of his boxer shorts. The smell of sex is overpowering with how Stiles has soaked the material covering the head of his dick with pre-come. 

"I'm going to suck you, but don't come. I want to be in you for that," Derek says, licking at the darkened cotton, Stiles' flavor exploding on his taste buds. Stiles' cock jumps, and a fresh burst of pre-come joins the rest.

"Christ. I don't know if I'll be able to hold on." 

Stiles moans as Derek finally takes his underwear off. His dick is dark red, almost purple, so hard for Derek who licks it from balls to tip.

"Ha! Fuck, fuck!" Stiles rasps.

Derek sucks him in and catalogues what works for Stiles, experimenting with suction, tongue, teeth and soon enough his fingers. He's careful not to take him over the edge just yet, finding clues in how Stiles tenses and swears, moaning like a porn star all the while. He takes his time, wanting to make this great, knowing he can wait for his own pleasure a bit more. Stiles is getting louder and louder with various threats - from making his life hell, ruining his credit, or inundating his email with spam - if he's not fucked right this instant, which Derek doesn't take very seriously because he's also pleading non-stop.

"So good, so good. I'm ready, Derek, please! I can't hold on anymore, I need to come, please," Stiles babbles, hands opening and closing around the headboard slats. 

A last hard suck and Derek pull off and kisses Stiles' hipbone. "Okay, yes, just..."

He'd prefer to fuck Stiles bareback, but it's not something they talked about and Derek doesn't want to break the mood, so he rolls a condom on and slicks his cock.

Stiles is breathing hard, mouth open, and Derek wishes he could see his eyes. He realizes he has no idea what color they are, which sobers him up considerably, bringing back to mind that their story could go sideways soon. It's not enough to stop – only Stiles could stop it at this point, Derek's too gone to do it himself – but on the other hand, it makes it easier to push into Stiles without losing it on the first trust.

It's no surprise when Stiles takes it beautifully with a sinuous roll of his hips as Derek fills him up. "Oh yeah, that's it, you feel so good Derek, Jesus fuck."

"You're incredible," Derek murmurs in Stiles ear as he bottoms out, stilling and kissing him deep and hard. Stiles forgets himself for a second and he reaches for Derek's shoulder, who rapidly intercepts his wrist again and returns it to its place on the headboard. It jolts them both a little and for some reason it proves to be the last straw for Stiles who wraps his long legs around Derek, heels digging onto the back of Derek's ass to urge him on harder, then rocks back and forth, fucking himself on Derek's dick as much as he can in this position.

"Fuck fuck fuck, I'm gonna come, Derek, I can't –" 

Derek starts to move, then, fucking him in earnest as Stiles loses it completely, coming so hard he shoots almost as far as his chin. He arches up and squeezes Derek's cock tight, who loses control and fucks Stiles so hard he's pushing him up the bed. When he comes it's like being hit by lightning, making his entire nervous system overload with pleasure, to the point where he almost blacks out.

In the stillness that follows, broken only by their still labored breathing and the thunder of their hearts, Derek realizes he's biting Stiles' neck – thankfully with human teeth – and he lets go to soothe the mark with an apology kiss. 

 

***

Stiles can’t help the sound of loss when Derek finally moves and pulls out. He’s tingling all over from one of the greatest orgasm he’s ever had, wondering a little bit how they got there so fast (not that he’s complaining, see remark about best orgasm ever). Being blindfolded – still! - makes him guess that the sounds he’s hearing are Derek getting tissues, which is confirmed when Derek cleans him up. 

Normally, he babbles after sex, and right now he'd probably be remarking on how he’s never come from only being fucked before, with no one touching his dick, but for once Stiles seems to have a brain-to-mouth filter and he keeps silent. He feels Derek straddling his body, sitting down on his thighs, and then slowly caressing up his arms to Stiles’ wrists. Oh, right, he’s still hanging on to the headboard and Derek pries Stiles' fingers off carefully, massaging his hands and wrists. 

“I’m fine,” Stiles reassures him. He's a bit cramped, but it’s already better and made even more so when Derek brings his hands up and kisses his knuckles, the sap. “Can I touch you, now?”

Derek freezes for a second, but then lowers Stiles’ hands while twisting his own so they are palm to palm. “Yeah, okay.”

He really shouldn’t have, but way before Derek first texted him and they became friends, Stiles had broken into his medical records at the hospital. Yes, Stiles is a terrible person, he’s perfectly aware of that. The pictures in the file from after the fire had been too much to handle, though, so he’d only given them a quick glance, enough to see Derek had third degree burns on both arms, his back and his face. Earlier, Derek’s hands had felt soft all over his body, something he can feel under his fingers right now. Burn scars should have texture, feel rough, but Stiles only finds soft supple skin, if a bit hairy, as he caresses up Derek’s arms. He has to pause at the biceps because damn, the guy’s got serious guns, but everything is smooth. He’s totally confused when he finally touches Derek’s face, feeling the prickle of stubble and eyebrows but no scars at all.

“Derek?” he asks, voice cracking because this doesn’t make sense.

“The burns are completely gone, Stiles,” Derek says. Unexpectedly, he sounds grim about it. 

Why is Derek so self-conscious about his appearance, then? Maybe he went through an experimental treatment that soothed the roughness but left his skin horribly discolored or something like that.

“That’s good, no?” Stiles asks. It’s nothing short of a miracle if you ask him.

“There’s a reason for it. Why Laura had me discharged so rapidly after the fire. I’m not who or what you think I am,” Derek says.

Who or what? Derek’s not making sense again.

“I know you, Derek. You,” Stiles says, poking at Derek’s chest and almost breaking his fingers because whoa, muscles. “Ow.”

Derek huffs in amusement, then catches Stiles’ hand again and kisses his almost bruised finger. 

“Yes, you probably know me better than anyone. I’m bad with people in general, you know that. But Laura and I, my family, others like us… we’re different. We’re what kids like you are warned about in fairy tales.”

Derek is talking in riddles and Stiles is lost. 

“Don’t freak out, okay?” Derek asks. “I would never hurt you. I promise.”

He clamps both of Stiles hands around his own and suddenly Derek’s hand is moving. No, not really, it’s transforming, stretching a little but most notably his nails are growing, sharpening, getting pointy.

“Are those claws?” Stiles breathes out, shocked.

Derek doesn’t say anything, just brings Stiles’ hand up to his face again, and delicately puts Stiles’ finger against his canine that elongates too. Fascinated, Stiles feels around, tests the point of what can only be called fangs now. Is Derek a vampire? Further investigation of his face reveals that his forehead is different from earlier, ridged - where the hell did the eyebrows go? - and that Derek has heavy sideburns and pointy ears.

“Werewolf?” Stiles guesses, heart racing.

“Yes. I couldn't tell you, before. We have to keep it a secret and the last time I told someone, a girl I thought loved me back, she burned my family alive.” Derek sounds distressed and Stiles aches for him. He pulls Derek down in his arms to soothe him. Derek continues talking against his neck. “I lied to cover it up, and then I couldn't tell you about it in writing or on the phone, and I don’t want to lose you as a friend, and-“

Stiles makes shushing sounds, carding his fingers in Derek’s hair. He doesn’t care about the cover up or the secrets. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

Derek makes a sound half way between a sob and a laugh and kisses his neck. Finally allowed to touch, Stiles frames his face, feels that Derek has shifted back to human, and kisses back with all of his heart. When they break it off, a long time later, Stiles kisses the tip of Derek’s nose.

“Can I see you now?”

Derek gives him one last kiss and sits up. “Yes. Okay. Wolf or man?”

There is no hesitation on Stiles’ part, enough that it’s slightly embarrassing. “Wolf.” 

When Derek reaches for Stiles' head to take off the blindfold he feels the tip of the claws, so careful, as he pushes at the fabric. The sudden light makes Stiles blink several time to adjust, but he zones in on Derek’s face, changed by the werewolf transformation and frankly a little weird, and meets the bright neon blue eyes he thought he’d imagined in the alley.

***

Stiles is gaping up at him, there’s no other word for it. There is not even one whiff of fear when he reaches up to Derek’s face again, touching his forehead and the fur on the side of his jaw, before raising Derek’s lips as he takes a look at his fangs, obviously fascinated. Amused, Derek lets him explore his fill, so relieved at Stile’s reaction that he feels light headed. He should have expected Stiles to be curious instead of disgusted.

“Do you have night vision? Super strength? Can you move super fast?” Stiles asks, rapid as a machine gun. 

“Yes.”

Stiles laughs. “This explains so much. No wonder I thought I had a concussion, you asshole. What happened in that alley was unnatural.”

“Supernatural,” Derek corrects with a smirk. “That and I’m great at ass-kicking.”

Stiles’ gaze drops to look at Derek's chest and body, eyes almost goggling like a cartoon character. There’s no mistaking the sudden smell of lust that follows.

“Like what you see?” Derek asks with a grin that he knows must look toothy as hell. Surprisingly, when Stiles looks back at his face again the smell of lust is renewed. He likes the wolf features? That could be interesting to explore.

“Well, duh,” Stiles says, as if it’s the stupidest question in the world. “Can I see your human face, now?”

Derek nods and shifts, eyes constantly on Stiles’. Which are gorgeous, by the way, brown when he thought they were blue like the Sheriff’s. There is some more gaping and lust once he has shifted his features back, which is flattering, he won’t lie. He’s been told he’s attractive countless times, but he only cares about Stiles’ opinion.

“You are gorgeous,” Stiles breathes out reverently, reaching for Derek’s face again. He’s never been touched this much on the face in his life. Derek might not hate it, though, and he leans into it when Stiles cups his cheek. “Perfect.”

Okay, so that’s pushing it. Derek rolls his eyes and shakes his head. 

“Stop it. But this –“ he gestures at his own face. “This is why I can’t be seen in Beacon Hills by someone who knows about the fire. I healed because I’m a werewolf.”

“It could be a medical miracle!” Stiles protests. “You were young, and had an experimental treatment that worked perfectly, but you were also lucky as hell because the doctor that treated you hadn’t done all of the animal testing, and it turned out that only one subject in three survived it, and –“

Derek laughs and silences him with a kiss.

“You are ridiculous,” he tells Stiles with conviction. He doesn’t add ‘and I love you’ because it’s too early, yet, but it’s strongly implied.

“I am not. I’m sure we can find a way to spin it,” Stiles says, a calculating gleam in his eyes that Derek instinctively knows means trouble. From one moment to the next, Stiles’ scent sours to anxiety as he loses his smile. “Oh, right. Unless you don’t want to be able to be seen in Beacon Hills because your life is in San José, and the bad memories…”

A kiss unwinds Stiles a bit. “I don’t care about San José, I’d love to come back. For you.” After a second he admits, “And for Laura, too.”

“I sure hope so!” Laura says from downstairs and Derek rolls his eyes.

“You shut up. Why didn’t you go take a hike?” he answers, glaring at the floor. He’s tempted to pick up a shoe to throw it in Laura's general direction. 

“Are you talking with Laura right now?” Stiles asks, eyes wide. It’s the most freaked he has seemed since they started talking. “She heard everything?”

Derek winces. “Yeah, sorry. Privacy is a problem in werewolf families.” He directs that last part towards the floor again.

“Who cares, it sounded pretty hot,” Laura replies.

That does make Derek start to blush. “Jesus, you’re such a pervert.”

“Hey, I’m not the one who fucked my boyfriend for the first time blindfolded, just saying.” 

Groaning in embarrassment, Derek hides his face in the crook of Stiles’ neck.

“Hum. I’m obviously missing one side of this conversation and I’d like to state that it makes me highly uncomfortable,” Stiles says, though he sounds more amused than angry or embarrassed.

It’s a good thing Derek has been keeping an ear on Laura because she’s moving fast. He only has time to grab the side of his comforter and roll over to cover Stiles and himself before she’s opening the door. 

Stiles makes a squeaky sound in surprise while Derek shouts. “Goddamn it, Laura!”

“I’m so happy you got your head out of your ass, Boo,” Laura says sweetly. She’s smiling for real, though. “You two are disgustingly cute, please carry on,” she adds, blowing them kisses before closing the door again, cackling like the evil sister she is.

Derek hides his face in his hands, mortified. “I’m sorry, she’s impossible.”

Stiles laughs. “It’s okay.”

Because of the emergency roll to cover them up, Stiles is now on top of him, which is very nice. Derek caresses slowly down his back before grabbing Stiles’ ass, who makes the best sound. Derek wants him again already, his cock hardening against Stiles’ hip.

“Is super stamina a werewolf power too?” Stiles asks, visibly on board with the idea of round two by the way he grinds down in answer.

Derek can’t help a smile that he knows is smug. “I can go all night, baby.”

“Oh my god, that was terrible,” Laura says from her room, loud enough for even Stiles to hear which makes him laugh. “I’m going to fetch some Chinese, I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Make that two,” Derek answers, loving how Stiles' eyes go round.

“Yeah, yeah,” Laura says, though she’s leaving, which is a victory.

“I have a feeling that you might kill me with amazing sex,” Stiles says. 

Derek noses at Stiles’ neck and considers marking it with a hickey to make things symmetrical with the bite mark on the other side. “After the trouble I went through saving your hide? Nah.”

“Please, I realize now you didn’t even break a sweat,” Stiles laughs.

“Hey, I got stabbed,” Derek protests, not realizing how it sounds to Stiles who stiffens in his arm and suddenly smells worried.

“What?”

Derek soothes him with a caress down his back. “It’s fine, I’m good. It was just a scratch, I healed in seconds. Werewolf, remember?”

Stiles relaxes and smiles. “Werewolf, right. So very cool. Hey, can you shift more than you’ve shown me?”

It derails Derek from his plans to, maybe, get Stiles to blow him with that sinful mouth of his.

“No, I’m a Beta, that’s it. Laura’s an Alpha, though, she can turn into a full wolf.”

“Awesome! Do you think she’d show me?” Stiles asks, excited. “Are you forced to change on the full moons? Do you have to be chained?” He’s looking around, as if looking for restraints. “Oh,” Stiles adds, suddenly sitting up to look at Derek’s groin with interest. “Do you have a knot?”

“A knot?” Derek asks faintly. 

Stiles doesn’t even let Derek rebuke that ridiculous notion before he’s asking more questions, popping them out as soon as they cross his mind.

“If you bite me, would I turn? Do you like to run in the woods and hunt animals? Is it just you and Laura or do you guys have a pack? Are puppy piles a thing? I’d be totally in favor of puppy piles, just saying. Do wolves mate for life? Am I your mate?”

Dizzy, Derek sits up and shuts Stiles up with a kiss: it’s a challenge as Stiles keeps trying to talk, which means Derek needs to work on his technique. 

“Later,” Stiles says after Derek redoubles efforts. He’s pliant in Derek's arms again, lazily humping his thigh. “You’ll tell me everything later. Don’t think I can’t recognize a trend here, putting off important conversations with sex. I am on to you, buddy.”

“Sex now, questions later,” Derek murmurs in his ear.

“Who am I kidding? This diversion tactic is totally working. Carry on," Stiles says. "Oh, are werewolf kids called cubs?"

Derek slaps a hand on Stiles mouth, which only prompts Stiles to shakes with laughter, eyes bright and happy. 

Derek can live with that.

**Author's Note:**

> The title was inspired by the following quote:
> 
> "Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind. And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind."
> 
> A Midsummer Night’s Dream – Act 1, Scene 1
> 
> ***
> 
> Thank you so very much for reading :)


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